Dubbed “dystopian rock” – with a touch of tongue-an-cheek – the debut EP Room 95 from Minneapolis-based Room 95 keeps the edges sharp and the blemishes conspicuous. Their collection of six tracks was recorded in a “square box lined with remnant carpet.” For aesthetes and other adherents to style, the setting is uncomfortable enough to extend beyond a few rings of Dante’s Inferno. For everyone else, it’s an unadorned studio, where Samuel Bergen (guitars/vocals), Sam Hamerski (bass) and Aurelio Sandoval (drums) hashed through the rawness of masculinity; toxic, chiseled and dangerous.
There’s not much foreplay here, as the band eschews horizon broadening in favor of functional structure. Their work ethic is similarly competent, with each session chronicled before its proper fine-tuning. Call it a thinking man’s quest toward the molten core of rock. It doesn’t hurt that the album cover makes for a wonderful magnet, should marketing sensibilities abound. “Shuffle (For The) Wicked,” the opening track, is a zombie stomp on the edge of a conjuring. Where it patterns the Black Keys in atmosphere, it mirrors the White Stripes in sound: a percussively gothic chunk of plasma-soaked voodoo. “Grand Design” follows this blueprint, albeit at a slower – but just as sinister – tempo. The vibe typifies that of a late night march; a lamppost leaning stagger with muted howls, minus Michael Jackson’s dance troupe. “Fool’s World,” rather, comes off as a muscular blues workout, channeling the fuck-all insouciance of Gary Clark, Jr.’s guitar tone. It is all at once intrusive, angry and unraveled. Yet, at the same time, very much together in its efforts to bleed your speakers. Following in spirit, the crunchy groove of “Malfunction” fits somewhere between Satchel and Faith No More, albeit skewed toward the latter. “Midnight Queen” is Led Zeppelin for the grunge age. And “Keepin’ On,” the final cut, should please wah pedal enthusiasts and casual fans of sleaze, alike. Overall, Room 95 is a juicy bite of forbidden fruit with enough in-pocket swing from which to occasionally shake a hip. Depending on where you fall in the “Rock Is Dead” debate, Bergen & Co may be your version of a defibrillator or a retread of the abrasive rebellion that pockmarked the latter half of the 20th Century. Either way, it pairs great with a beer. And as long as we’re not counting calories, there’s plenty to drink in.
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